


Second Chances

by igrockspock



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, F/M, Mission Fic, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock
Summary: After Spock assigns Nyota to the Farragut, she isn't sure she wants to continue the relationship.  As Spock works to regain her trust, a mission to a mysterious wish-granting planet imperils the crew and forces Nyota to take charge.
Relationships: Spock/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 30
Kudos: 96
Collections: Fandom Giftbox 2020





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts).



> Thank you so much for your delicious prompts, LittleRaven! I loved your likes list, so I hit up your journal to read more of your Dear Author letters and became enamored with your Spock/Uhura requests for Fandom5K -- especially what you said about the challenges of negotiating a relationship where Spock technically outranks Uhura. This story was a pleasure to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Nyota stared into the mirror and forced herself to practice the words she’d been dreading for so long.

“Spock, I do not believe we should continue our relationship.”

She winced. Too formal, too Vulcan.

“Spock, this is a really hard decision, but I think we’re better off as friends and colleagues.”

That was better, but still not right. It sounded too professional, like she was turning down a date with a coworker rather than ending a year-long relationship.

 _Thirteen months_ , supplied a voice in her head. Not that she was counting.

“Spock, this is a really hard decision, but as much as I want to be with you, we need to be honest that we can’t be in a relationship while you’re my commanding officer. We always knew our careers might make this impossible, and I think that time has come.”

 _That_ was right. Honest and direct, but kind and compassionate. Spock was logical. He would understand. She stepped back and surveyed herself in the mirror - eyeliner sharp, not a hair out of place, favorite green earrings dangling from her ears. It was her battle armor. She wondered with a pang if Spock would recognize it.

***

Nyota’s door chimed at precisely 20:00 hours, just as she had known it would. Spock stood on the other side, dressed in a simple Vulcan tunic.

“I believe we have important matters to discuss,” he said as soon as he stepped inside.

Nyota nodded silently and felt a fraction of her dread slip away. They both knew something was wrong.

“I wonder if you would allow me the favor of speaking first,” he continued, and Nyota nodded again. If he had reached the same conclusion she had, this was going to be much easier than she’d expected.

“Initially, you appeared excited by my return to the _Enterprise_.”

“You mean we had a lot of wild sex,” Nyota supplied. She couldn’t suppress a smile as she watched a faint green flush spread over his cheeks. 

“Yes,” he acknowledged, cocking an eyebrow. “However, you have been avoiding me for 1.3 weeks.”

“You calculated it as a decimal?”

“Would you have preferred a fraction?”

Shit. Now they were flirting. This wasn’t what she’d planned. _Steady, Nyota._ She swallowed back her rejoinder and forced herself to say, “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. I was happy to see you, but…”

“After the initial emotion faded, you recognized an unresolved problem in our relationship.” He swallowed. “My decision to leave Starfleet for New Vulcan must have aroused...complex emotions. When I returned, I was grateful for your companionship. I neglected to consider your feelings of abandonment.” He paused. “Nyota, you appear enraged.”

“A most astute observation,” Nyota snapped. She’d clenched her knuckles around the arm of her chair, and she was breathing hard enough that she imagined her nostrils were flaring. “If you think I’d begrudge you the chance to rebuild your homeworld, you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“I confess I do not understand the reason for your dissatisfaction.”

By now, all her careful, reasoned words had vanished from her head. She thrust herself out of her chair and spun toward Spock, arms crossed over her chest.

“Did you _forget_ that you assigned me to the _Farragut_ when I deserved the _Enterprise_? You forced me to debate you for the assignment that was rightfully mine.”

“A task which posed little difficulty, as I recall,” Spock said, but she saw him blanch.

“That’s not the point and you know it. I should never have had to ask.” When she was angry -- really angry -- her eyes filled up with tears, and she swiped angrily at her cheeks. “You _promised_ me your unqualified support for every career goal I had. You went back on that. And you know what’s worse? You _knew_ I deserved to be on the _Enterprise_. If you’d thought there was somebody better, you would’ve been wrong, but I could’ve lived with it. But you were only protecting your own reputation. As if anyone could look at my skills and think you gave me that assignment just because I slept with you.”

Spock looked away, his jaw working silently as he struggled to find something to say. Ordinarily, Nyota enjoyed the moments when she could make him break his composure. Today, she felt nothing.

She pulled her spine straight and steadied her voice. “You’re my commanding officer now. I won’t take the chance that you’ll drop me from an away team or a diplomatic mission because you think choosing me will look like favoritism. We’re finished.”

***

_Order us some Cardassian sunrises. Oh, and I need to borrow a metal bikini top._

Nyota tapped out the message to Gaila just before she powered down her station. She’d slept restlessly the night before, oscillating between sadness and relief that the conversation was done. Now alpha shift was ending, and she had no idea what to do with herself. Not for the first time, she wished Gaila had accepted Jim’s offer to serve aboard the _Enterprise_ , but she’d turned it down in favor of helping build Yorktown base. 

Making friends had never been hard for Nyota, but serving aboard the _Enterprise_ was like living in a tiny, self-contained village with all her coworkers. She wasn’t sure how to draw lines between personal and professional, so she’d erred on the side of caution. She could name a hundred people she trusted with her life, and zero she trusted with her heart.

 _Because you haven’t given them a chance,_ said a voice in the back of her mind. It sounded suspiciously like her grandmother. She forced a smile onto her face as she passed her comm link to the beta shift duty officer. She _should_ do more to make friends, but she certainly wasn’t going to start by inviting another member of the senior staff to watch her eat ice cream and wail about her breakup. 

And anyway, who said she had to eat junk food and cry -- or be alone, for that matter? There was always extra work to be done on the _Enterprise_ , and now was a perfect time to learn a new skill. On a whim, she ordered the turbolift to take her to sickbay. Her linguistics studies had left her no room to learn even the tiniest detail about medicine, and if it happened that Spock was unlikely to spend extra time in Dr. McCoy’s vicinity, well, that was a bonus.

As soon as she stepped into sickbay, Dr. McCoy greeted her with a tricorder. “What seems to be the problem, Lieutenant?”

She shook her head, waving the instrument away. “Nothing. I just heard that the new vaccination shipment came in today, and I came to see if you needed help.”

The doctor frowned, and Nyota suddenly felt ridiculous. Of course it made no sense for her to come to sickbay looking for a job. She ought to have asked Scotty to let her tinker with the subspace array; that would have been much more logical, even if the odds of running into Spock would be higher.

“Are you actually _asking_ for scut work?” Dr. McCoy asked.

 _Scut work_. Nyota had never heard the term before, but she could guess the meaning. Behind her, a nurse was taking bets for the first crew member to get a UBI requiring the services of a rear admiral. Her face lit up.

“There’s a whole new language to learn down here. I’m in.” She leaned in and whispered, “What’s a UBI, and why would it involve a rear admiral?”

“Unexplained beer injury,” McCoy muttered darkly. “And a rear admiral is a proctologist.”

“Do we have one of those on board?” Nyota asked.

“Not specifically, so I imagine the honors will fall to me.”

“Fifty credits on the captain,” Nyota said. “Now teach me how to load a hypospray.”

***

Spock appeared at her door at precisely 20:00 hours the next day, this time without an invitation.

Nyota pushed back her embarrassment when she opened the door. So what if Spock saw her with messy hair and smudged mascara? It was nothing he hadn’t seen before.

He cleared his throat. “I wish to return items you left in my quarters.”

Nyota frowned. She couldn’t think of anything she’d left behind; she’d only spent the night a few times.

He produced a clear plastic bag from one of his pockets. Inside, Nyota counted three ponytail holders, the back of an earring, and one bobby pin. He was clearly looking for an excuse to see her.

“You bagged it up like crime scene evidence,” she said, accepting the bag from his outstretched hand.

“I did not. Crime scene evidence is bagged singly and clearly labeled.”

 _When did you take a crime scene investigation class?_ Nyota bit back the question. She’d never broken up with a coworker before, but she was pretty sure that ongoing banter wasn’t part of the package.

“There is another item of a more personal nature.” He peered down the corridor, where Jim was arguing animatedly with Dr. McCoy. “If you would allow me to enter…”

Nyota stepped aside, and Spock handed over a slender square of red fabric as soon as the door swished shut behind him. She unfolded it, and heat bloomed across her cheeks. Her favorite thong.

“How considerate,” she murmured.

“It did not seem appropriate to keep it. Nor did I wish to, of course.” 

“Thank you,” Nyota said. Spock looked even stiffer than usual, and Nyota doubted she looked any better. She had pictured their breakup before, at times when their cultural differences had seemed insurmountable, but she’d never imagined this awkward exchange of forgotten underwear. 

“Is there something else?” Nyota asked, thinking _please, god, just say no._ But Spock was still standing in front of her, rigid as ever.

Spock closed his eyes and inhaled as if trying to gather his strength. “Nyota, I erred grievously and your decision to end our relationship is justified. However, I wish to offer the remedy suggested by Vulcan custom. Please provide a list of conditions for my future behavior. If, after thirty days, you are satisfied that I have fulfilled them, perhaps you will consider resuming our relationship.”

In spite of the formal words, Spock had dropped any pretense of controlling his face. He was gazing at her with longing and desperation, and Nyota forced herself to tear her eyes away. She clenched her jaw against temptation. Deciding to leave him had been hard enough; she couldn’t imagine prolonging the process for another month.

She ought to tell him there was no going back. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said finally, pushing down the little flare of anger in her chest. Words were her very best friend. How could they fail her now?

“Of course, it would be inappropriate for me to demand an answer immediately. I will return in seven days time, if that is agreeable to you.” Spock looked at her expectantly, and Nyota registered that she was still holding her bright red thong.

This was the most awkward conversation of her life.

“Yes. One week. Perfect.” Nyota said hastily. She wasn’t even sure what she was agreeing to; she just wanted the conversation finished. 

Spock nodded once, short and sharp, and the door hissed shut behind him. Nyota slumped against the wall. What had she just done?

***

Nyota slept badly the next night. Gaila had sent a replicator pattern for a silvery bikini top with pointed cups and a well-intentioned but not very comforting _congratulations on your breakup_ card. Attached was a recipe for an anti-chafing cream to wear under the bikini top, a logistical detail that Nyota hadn’t considered before.

All Nyota knew to do was put one foot in front of the other, and that carried her straight to sickbay at the end of her shift. Over the next three days, she developed a comforting pattern: a healthy dinner, thirty minutes at the gym, and then more scut work. The orderlies were more than happy to trade obscure medical vocabulary for help organizing supplies and testing equipment, and Nyota liked knowing that her assistance might play some small part in saving someone’s life.

On the fourth day, Christine Chapel was waiting for her outside.

“You are not going in there,” she said firmly, jerking her thumb toward the huge transparisteel doors. 

“I’m not?” Nyota asked.

“Nope.” Christine shook her head, making her blond curls bounce.

“You’ve got a really good command voice,” Nyota admitted. Not that it was going to stop her.

“It’s great for stopping people from being stupid.”

“Wait, are you talking about me?”

Christine rolled her eyes, but she punctuated it with a friendly smile as she looped her arm through Nyota’s. “Yes. Spending all of your free time loading hypos in sickbay is a really stupid decision.” Nyota started to protest, but Christine held up a hand. “If you were really here to learn medical terminology, I’m sure a dictionary would assuage your curiosity. Now you’re coming to my quarters for a drink, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

***

“I dumped my fiance because I realized he’d never stop putting his career over mine,” Christine said casually as she mixed a Cardassian sunrise with quick, practiced motions. “He always said he valued both of our professions equally, but somehow, he was never the one who made a sacrifice. It was always, ‘oh, you can be a nurse anywhere, Christine.’ And I went along with it for longer than I should have because there _are_ nursing jobs everywhere. But they’re not all the same, you know? And I hated that he thought they were.” She pushed a cool glass into Nyota’s hand. “So anyway, what I’m saying is, I get how hard it is to end a long relationship.”

Nyota winced. “That obvious, huh? Does everyone know?”

“I don’t think so.” Christine shook her head. “My friend Tetra works the gamma shift in the long range sensor lab. Apparently Commander Spock’s been taking two shifts a day and terrorizing the whole science department. And then I saw you working odd hours in sickbay… It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.” She shrugged. “And Gaila tipped me off that you might need a friend.”

“Of course she did.” Nyota had always thought she was good at networking, but Gaila put her to shame. Somehow she knew half of Starfleet -- and now, halfway across the galaxy, she was using her precious subspace tokens to make sure the right person reached out to Nyota. 

“When did you break up with your fiance?” Nyota asked. She was stalling for time, maybe, trying to get Christine’s measure before she opened up about her own relationship, but Christine seemed happy to talk.

“A few months ago. Just before I accepted this assignment. We’d agreed I was going to request a posting on Starbase 12. They needed nurses -- of course -- and Roger thought it would be perfect for his quasar research. But every time I looked at the paperwork, I threw up in my mouth a little bit. It was going to be so _boring_.” She shrugged. “So long story short, I put together a new list of options, Roger nixed all of them, and I gave back the ring.”

“You look really happy,” Nyota said. Honestly, Christine was glowing. She’d never seen someone look so happy about a breakup.

“Best decision of my life.” She licked her lips. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened between you and Spock?”

Nyota sighed. She didn’t want to make Spock look bad in front of the rest of the crew. She didn’t wish him ill, and anyway, the crew needed to trust their XO. But did all that mean she never got to tell her own side of the story?

“This stays between us?” she asked, draining the rest of her drink just a little too fast.

Chrstine nodded solemnly. “Truth? I’m low on friends. Roger somehow got them all in the not-quite-divorce. So now that I’ve met a single lady to commiserate with, I’m not about to violate her trust.”

Nyota twisted around so she could lean against the arm of the couch, facing Christine. How could she have forgotten how good it felt to chat with a girlfriend?

“Well, funny you mention careers…” She sighed. “I actually turned Spock down the first time he asked me out. I didn’t want anything to interfere with my studies, or my career. But he promised me that he’d never stand in between me and my job. _It is not the Vulcan way to interfere with a partner’s intellectual fulfillment,_ he said. And then the first time there was a conflict…”

“He picked his career over yours?” Christine asked, and Nyota nodded.

“I forgave him so easily at first. Vulcan had been destroyed, his mother died. It seemed petty to complain when he was leaving Starfleet anyway. Then, when he showed up on the _Enterprise_ , I was so happy to see him that I almost forgot what he did.”

“And then you woke up next to him one morning and remembered?”

Nyota nodded again, the familiar fury blossoming in her chest, but sadness lingered underneath. “It was such a good relationship, until…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “How long did it take you to be sure you’d done the right thing?”

Christine laughed. “About two hours. I’d been ignoring so many problems for so long, all I could feel was relief.” She put a hand on Nyota’s arm. “I think it takes most people longer. You were smart to look out for yourself.” She picked up Nyota’s empty glass and rattled the ice. “Right now, you need another one of these.”

***

Nyota’s door chime awakened her at 0500 the next morning. She put a hand to her throbbing head, muttering curses. This was supposed to be her day off, dammit.

She jabbed the intercom button. “Go away,” she snapped at whoever was on the other side.

“Yeah, sorry, not gonna happen.” 

Nyota bolted upright at the sound of Jim’s voice. The _captain’s_ voice. She tugged on a pair of pants and opened the door in record time.

“Sir, I didn’t mean to -- “

“It’s alright.” Jim waved a hand. “As long as you take this call right now.”

He extended a comm toward her and Nyota blinked. “What kind of emergency?”

“Frankly, I have no idea,” Jim said. “But apparently you’ve been ignoring your Bibi’s transmissions for the last week, so she called _me_. Honestly, she’s kinda scary and I think you should talk to her.”

Nyota snatched the communicator from his outstretched hand. Apparently breaking up with Spock was like going back to high school. She made terrible choices with alcohol and found herself in embarrassing situations with alarming frequency.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Sir.” She closed the door on Jim’s bemused face.

***

Nyota flicked the comm screen, and Bibi’s hologram appeared on Nyota’s desk, flickering slightly. The subspace relay dish needed adjusting again. Distortion notwithstanding, Bibi looked the same as always: not a single white hair was out of place, and green earrings -- the twins of Nyota’s favorite pair -- dangled from her ears.

Without much prompting, the story of her breakup spilled out. Bibi waited quietly until she was done, and then she said, “Nyota, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t have told me this before.”

“Because he asked me to take him back, and I didn’t say no,” she said, shame flooding her body. “I thought you would tell me I was weak.”

“You’re allowed to forgive someone if you want to, Nyota,” Bibi said.

Nyota’s head snapped up. “But you were so proud of Mama when she filed for divorce.”

“Because she didn’t want to be with your father,” Bibi said mildly. “If you still want to be with Spock…”

Nyota spun a stylus between her fingers, a nervous habit she’d had since she was a girl. “He asked me to make a list of what I wanted him to do differently. The thing is, there’s nothing I’d want to change. Everything was good, until he broke his promise and assigned me to the _Farragut._ ”

“Your Babu cheated on me, you know.” She shot Nyota a sharp look. “Close your mouth, girl. It’s not polite to gape.”

“But - but you’re still married!” Nyota managed finally.

“Yes, I forgave him.” 

“ _Why_?”

“Because I still loved him,” Bibi said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I was angry, of course. I even left for a little while. But it was one moment of bad judgment against eighteen years of good marriage. And in the end, it didn’t feel empowering to deprive myself of something _I_ still wanted.”

“Weren’t you afraid he would do it again?” Nyota asked. Her head was still spinning.

“Oh Nyota, trusting other people is more about trusting yourself. I told him we had to go to therapy. We worked out how he’d earn back my trust. And I trusted _myself_ to leave if he didn’t do it.”

“Are you saying I _should_ take Spock back?”

Bibi smiled at her, and for a minute, Nyota felt like she was back in her kitchen in Nairobi. 

“Only you know the answer to that question. All I’m saying is, _if_ you want to take him back, it doesn’t mean you’re not a strong woman.” Her smile turned wicked. “Especially if you make him earn it.”

***

By 0530, Nyota was outside Spock’s door. He was, of course, already dressed. His quarters smelled of freshly brewed tea, and she could see the gray stone teapot perched on the table next to his padd. Nobody but her knew how often he used it for drawing.

“I’ve thought about your offer,” she said with as much decorum as she could muster, considering that her hair was a mess and her face was probably still creased with sleep.

Spock stepped aside to let her in, his eyes widening so faintly that nobody else would have noticed.

“And?” 

She heard the barest tremble in her voice.

Nyota swallowed. “The request was inappropriate. You’re the one who screwed up, and you gave me the responsibility for telling you how to fix it. If you want me back, _you_ figure out how to make it up to me.”

Spock’s lips quirked. It wasn’t quite a half smile. Maybe a quarter, Nyota thought. Perhaps only an eighth.

He said, “Challenge accepted.”

***

And then Spock didn’t speak to her for a week. They worked together professionally. That was all.

Nyota fidgeted at her console, tweaking settings that she’d perfected weeks ago, and tried not to glance at the science station out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, exactly. Roses and chocolate had never been their style, but she’d imagined _some_ kind of gesture by now. Allowing a week -- nearly a quarter of the allotted thirty days -- to elapse was just inefficient.

Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he’d realized he didn’t want her back, after all.

She wrenched her attention back to her console. Scotty had requested over ninety exabytes of raw experimental data from Starfleet Command. Something to do with warp bubbles. The transfer would have to be managed carefully, or it would monopolize the ship’s entire bandwidth. If she brought it in during the gamma shift, when most of the crew was asleep…

“Lieutenant Uhura.”

Nyota’s concentration was so intense she hadn’t even noticed Spock’s approach.

“Commander Spock.” She kept her tone cool and businesslike, a perfect mirror of his.

“The sensor lab has intercepted data which may be a long-range beacon from an uncharted planet. However, interference from a nearby pulsar makes the signal quite difficult to distinguish.” 

Nyota couldn’t help it. She beamed. _That_ was her kind of project. “Transfer the data to my station, please, Commander. I’ll get right on it.”

***

Nyota didn’t look up again until Jim handed her a cup of coffee two hours later. She winced, trying to roll out the crick in her neck.

“How’s it going?” Jim asked. 

“You’re blocking my graphs,” Nyota muttered. “ _Sir_.”

Not looking the least bit chagrined, Jim shifted so that he wasn’t looming over her station anymore. “What am I looking at, Lieutenant?”

“Not much. Yet. See, these subharmonics repeat in a pattern that suggests purposeful communication, but you can see the gravitational radiation waves from the pulsar here” -- she gestured at a glowing purple line on the graph -- “obscure the signal. It would be easier to disentangle if the waves aligned with the pulsar’s spin axis, but they don’t -- I’m talking too fast, aren’t I?”

“You get that way when you’re excited.” Jim leaned against her console again, obscuring the graph, and Nyota huffed in frustration.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Lemme check. I think you’re saying there might be a cool new planet to explore, but you don’t know yet. And you’re probably about to ask for more room to spread out your research.”

Nyota nodded. “That would be a start.”

“Got some real estate in mind?” 

“Captain, I believe the holographic display panels in Conference Room A are ideal for the Lieutenant’s task,” Spock broke in. “Morning briefings could be relocated to B deck for the next three days.”

Nyota could barely contain her glee. Of course, Spock was right; the six holo screens _were_ ideal for her research, but the best part were the wide picture windows that lined the bulkhead. She could gaze out at the stars all day.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll add myself to the schedule.”

“I have already taken the liberty.” Spock tapped his data padd, and the room reservation appeared in glowing green letters on her daily schedule.

She turned back to the captain. “Once I’ve disentangled the signals --”

“You’ll be wanting a full stop so you can manually fine tune the relays,” Jim finished for her. He rolled his eyes a little, but she forgave him, because he always said yes. Sure enough, he turned toward the helm. “Mr. Chekov, in about three days, we’ll need a good place to stop. Start looking for coordinates now.”

Nyota rose from her station, gathering her coffee and a fistful of data chips. She beamed at Jim, then at Spock, not caring what was -- or wasn’t -- between them. If he kept bringing her projects like this, she would be his friend forever.

***

Nyota didn’t realize she was hungry until Spock appeared with a tray of food.

Her eyes landed on a plate piled high with greens, topped with bright red chunks of tomato. “Is that _sukumi wiki_?” she asked. She caught sight of a fluffy white cake on the side, and beamed. “And you brought _ugali_?”

“I do not know why you persist in asking questions to which you already know the answer.” 

Spock placed the tray in front of her, and Nyota inhaled appreciatively. The ugali gave way under her fork, revealing a fluffy white cornmeal interior. “Looks like someone tuned up the replicator,” she murmured. “The last time I ordered this, it was like a brick.” 

“I believe the catering team recalibrated carbohydrate programming yesterday. They will be pleased to know their efforts are appreciated.”

“And _your_ efforts are appreciated too.” Nyota popped a bite of the sukumi wiki into her mouth, smiling as spices blossomed across her tongue. “You didn’t have to bring me dinner.”

“On the contrary, it was a necessity for the mission. You often fail to eat while working. This is detrimental to long-term productivity.”

Nyota’s gaze flicked to the side of her plate. At Bibi’s house, sukumi wiki and ugali always came with barbecue, but Spock had replaced it with planks of soy protein. “And I suppose this tofu is to maximize my productivity too?” 

“Once again, you ask a question with an obvious answer. The nutritional content is optimal for mental acuity.”

Nyota sighed. “As long as you didn’t sneak vitamins into my coffee.”

***

Three days later, Nyota had teased out enough of the signal for a basic triangulation, and she rose early to fit in an extra yoga class. Manually calibrating the subspace relays required a lot of unnatural bending and reaching, and she wanted to stretch out beforehand.

Christine sidled toward her at the end of class. “You’re _glowing._ This is far too much happiness for 0600 hours.”

Nyota might have bounced a little; she couldn’t help it. “I get to go outside today.” She jerked her head toward the windows that lined the walls of the gym. A to-do list was happily buzzing around her head, reminding her to check her suit and refill her thruster pack, and she took her leave of Christine and practically skipped toward the airlock.

She thought she’d arrived early, but someone was already there. Probably the assistant she’d requested from the long range sensor lab. She could hardly fault anyone for eagerness.

The door hissed open and Nyota stopped suddenly. Spock stood in the airlock, already dressed for the trip outside.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, then kicked herself for sounding stupid.

“As executive officer, I wish to master all shipboard systems.” Spock paused, a tiny furrow in his brow revealing his unease. “However, if you would prefer a different assistant…”

“No,” Nyota said, a touch too hastily. She swallowed, forced herself to continue more calmly. “I’m grateful for your assistance.”

Why should she be rattled? She chided herself. True, she and Spock hadn’t spent any real time alone together since she’d challenged him to make things up to her, but they’d worked together smoothly on the bridge, and their conversations had been amiable each time he’d delivered her dinner. They’d put the finishing touches on the triangulation last night, working quietly side by side until he’d declared they both needed sleep for optimal mental acuity in the morning.

He would be a good partner. No, an _excellent_ one.

Nyota was the first one out of the airlock, and she stopped and gasped, just as she always did. Her body floated among the stars, every tiny pinprick of light representing thousands -- millions -- of possibilities. New languages, new species, scenery she couldn’t even imagine. Every ray of light was hundreds or thousands of years old, and here it was, touching her. Changing her.

Without thinking, she started to raise two fingers to press them against Spock’s, and she grabbed a spanner from her pouch to camouflage the gesture.

“I wish there were some way to be out here without a helmet,” she said. “Just me and the stars.”

“There is a way,” Spock answered. “However -- “

“I would quickly perish.” Nyota finished the sentence for him, repeating his grave intonation exactly. “Knew you were going to say that.”

With that, she ignited her thruster pack and soared toward the first relay. Spock caught up to her quickly, and they began turning each of the tiny receivers to the precise coordinates that Nyota had selected.

“Does your work require silence?”

Starlight glinted off Spock’s helmet, and Nyota couldn’t stop her lips from twisting up into a smile when she looked at him. She could say yes, and he wouldn’t be offended. She could even say no, silence wasn’t required, but she wanted it anyway, and he would respect her desire for quiet reflection. It was the best working partnership she’d ever had.

She answered in Vulcan. “Silence is not required at this time.”

“What have you learned recently?”

A wave of longing flooded through Nyota. The question was standard Vulcan small talk, but they had made it part of their evening ritual. Spock would listen to anything she’d learned, whether it was an obscure Icelandic naming convention or a major breakthrough in subspace technology. Unlike everyone else in her life, he never accused her of working too hard or reading too much, and he was never bored by what she had to say.

A dozen possibilities hovered on the tip of her tongue. She could tell him about the unexplained beer injuries that required proctologists, or any other piece of medical slang. How to efficiently load a hypospray (although he probably already knew), or advances in decoding ancient Bajoran.

Instead she said, “My grandfather cheated on my grandmother.”

Spock regarded her steadily, and she kept her gaze locked firmly on the relays. Finally, he said, “Is this a recent development?”

“It was a very long time ago.”

“And if I recall correctly, their union survived. I have seen holographs of them standing together in your quarters.” Spock paused. Nyota heard him inhale through the speaker in her helmet. “Is there a reason you shared this fact?”

Nyota swallowed. “I’ve been thinking about forgiveness lately.”

Another pause. Spock handed her exactly the tool she needed before she asked. “I have recently learned that my father was married once, before my mother. The union did not prove sustainable.”

“No way. Your dad got divorced? Did he tell you that himself?”

Spock’s voice rose faintly, and Nyota could picture him lifting an incredulous eyebrow. “He did. He has become somewhat more forthcoming since my mother’s death.”

Nyota’s eyes widened. She’d only met Ambassador Sarek once, but it was hard to imagine him admitting a transgression. “I have to know more. Did he say what happened?”

“Apparently, in his youth, he found it difficult to admit errors and repair them.” Spock spoke slowly, weighing every word. “I believe he was concerned that I was following in his path.”

Nyota looked up, and Spock met her eyes. She could feel they were on the edge of something, but what exactly? For ten days, he’d treated her as a highly respected fellow officer. Nothing less, but certainly nothing more.

Static crackled through her helmet, and the moment vanished as Chekov’s rapid voice rushed out through the speaker. “Burst of ion radiation headed your way in one minute, seventeen seconds. We are beaming you inside now.”

***

Nyota ordered a plate of sukumi wiki and ugali for lunch, this time accompanied by the proper barbecue rather than slices of soy protein. Scotty walked past her table, and she waved at him to sit down.

“Congratulate the engineers on the catering team for me,” she said, scooping up a bite of greens. “These are just like my grandmother used to make at home.”

“Aye, they’ll be happy to hear it. But Mr. Spock has done most of the work, mind.” 

Nyota frowned. “Spock is on the catering team?”

“Don’t know how he finds the time for it, but aye, he is. Gamma shifts, mostly. He was working in the long-range sensor lab all night before. I know they’re glad to have him out of their hair.”

Nyota had almost forgotten her lunch, delicious as it was. “Last week Spock was working all night in the sensor lab? And now he works all night in catering?”

Scotty shot her an odd look. “That’s what I said, lass. Now, do you think you could have a word with him about these mashed potatoes? They still taste like glue.”

***

Nyota slid behind the comms console and tried not to stare at the science station. Spock sat in front of his usual assortment of esoteric graphs, duty rosters, and Starfleet paperwork, looking as implacable as ever. Still, even from the corner of her eye, she could tell he wasn’t really looking at any of them. He was looking at _her_.

Her head spun. In the past hour, several facts had become undeniable.

One. Spock had found the beacon just for her.

Two. After he’d found the beacon, he’d stayed up all night fine tuning the replicator’s reproductions of her favorite recipes.

Three. He’d supported her project every way he could, from getting her the best conference room to making sure she slept and ate.

Four. He’d spoken to his father for advice, no matter how much that cost him.

And she almost hadn’t noticed.

Her fingers hovered over her personal comm and she clenched her hand into a fist. _Not while we’re on duty_ , she reminded herself fiercely. Alpha shift was over in four hours. This would have to wait.

Thank goodness she had a project to distract her.

***

“Captain, I’ve located the beacon’s coordinates and translated the message!” Nyota spun around in her chair. She may or may not have waved her padd around in a little celebration.

“Well, what is it Lieutenant?” Jim looked just as gleeful as she felt. “Are we going to explore strange new worlds, seek out new life --”

“We all know the Starfleet credo, Jim,” Dr. McCoy interrupted. Nyota honestly had no idea what he was doing on the bridge, but the comings and goings of Jim’s epic bromance weren’t her business. 

“It says, ‘we welcome travelers from the stars, bring us your best and brightest, and it’s our honor to fulfill your deepest wishes,” Nyota read from her padd. “The language has similarities to Orion, but none I can pinpoint exactly.”

“Is it just me, or does that greeting sound a little too good to be true?” Sulu asked.

“I think it sounds downright creepy,” Dr. McCoy agreed.

“Oh come on, Bones.” Jim clapped the doctor on the back. “Did you even consider that they might _actually be friendly?_ Not everything out here wants to kill us.”

“I agree with the doctor,” Spock said. The entire bridge crew went silent and stared. 

“ _See_ ,” Dr. McCoy said, pointing toward Spock. “Even _he_ thinks it’s dangerous.”

“Which is precisely why we must go,” Spock added.

The doctor’s face fell. “Are you out of your ever-loving mind?”

Spock didn’t deign to acknowledge him. “Starfleet intends to open this sector for commercial shipping in the next year. It is therefore our duty to identify potential threats.”

Jim looked around the bridge crew and grinned. “Spock, McCoy, Uhura, you’re with me. Let’s boldly go!”

“To the shuttle bay in one hour’s time, with appropriate equipment for an exploratory party,” Spock finished for him.

***

Nyota lingered in the shuttle’s passenger compartment until an argument erupted between the captain and the doctor. Then she let herself into the cockpit, latching the door behind her.

“I didn’t know you were a pilot,” she murmured.

Spock turned to face her. “My skills in this area are average.”

To a human, it was a self-deprecating statement. For a Vulcan, it was an honest assessment of skills, so that duties could be apportioned correctly in case of emergency. 

She slipped into the seat beside him. He glanced pointedly at the safety harness, and Nyota buckled it obligingly even though it was uncomfortable -- and unnecessary, given their smooth, predictable path toward the planet now called 9270A.

“Did you get me a planet?” she asked, her voice light and amused.

“No.” 

Nyota resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes, when Spock answered questions literally, he was being wilfully obtuse; other times -- like now -- it was because he felt vulnerable.

“Let me rephrase.” She twisted against the safety harness so she could lay a hand on his arm. “Did you spend a week of gamma shifts in the long-range sensor lab looking for a project I would enjoy?”

“It was only logical.” Spock’s voice dipped lower than usual. “I failed in the first promise I made to you, to respect your considerable professional skills. Thus, the logical response was to identify a task which would allow you to use them.”

“You started working all those night shifts before you even asked my conditions for taking you back.”

“Whether you accepted my proposal was irrelevant. I made a mistake, and it was therefore my duty to make it up to you, whether or not you wished to resume our relationship.” He swallowed, and Nyota watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He didn’t try to keep his voice even when he said, “Nyota, had you accepted the assignment to the _Farragut_ , you would have _died._ ”

Nyota couldn’t help it. She laughed, and Spock looked at her sharply.

“Spock, we all would’ve died if Sulu had remembered to take off the parking brake, or if Dr. McCoy hadn’t smuggled Jim on board, or… god, I don’t even know. We all lived because of a hundred tiny coincidences that day. If I’d died, it would’ve been Nero’s fault, not yours.”

Nyota’s hand lay on the console, and Spock brushed two of his fingers against two of her own. “I would not have forgiven myself had you perished.”

Her fingers felt warm where Spock had touched them, but she pulled her hand back reluctantly. It would be so easy to tell him that all was forgiven, but she wanted to finish the conversation first. She owed herself at least that much.

“Is that why you called my grandmother for her sukumi wiki recipe?”

“I did no such thing.” 

“So it’s just a coincidence that the replicator’s been churning out perfect versions of my grandmother’s cooking?”

Spock’s lips quirked. “Nyota, my sense of self-preservation is intact. I called your sister, not your grandmother.”

“Still, I know that was hard for you.” Introducing Spock to her family hadn’t been easy; they were a raucous bunch, and he hadn’t fit in well. 

“That which is owed must be paid,” Spock said simply. “Difficulty is irrelevant.”

By then, the planet was coming into view, and Nyota gasped at the sight of it. Amethyst oceans lapped at the shores of orange and gold land masses while white clouds swirled across the skies. It was exactly what she imagined when she joined Starfleet, and a wave of trepidation cut through her rapture. _It’s our honor to fulfill your deepest wishes_ , the message had said. Was it just a coincidence that she’d found a planet that looked exactly like her childhood dreams?

“Spock, will you describe what you see?” she asked.

Spock shot her a questioning glance but complied. “The planet appears to be a class M planet, approximately 1.4 times the size of Earth. The majority of the surface is covered by pale purple oceans, while the landmasses are primarily orange and yellow in color. Why do you ask?”

“The message said they would fulfill our deepest wishes. When the planet looked just like what I pictured as a girl, I got suspicious.”

Spock nodded. “You suspect the possibility the inhabitants of the planet may use a psionic field of some kind to distort our perception. Incorporating frequent visual checks is a wise precaution.”

“I’ll set our tricorders to capture holograms at regular intervals. That should be harder to fool than our brains.” With a tinge of regret, Nyota let go of the conversation they’d started earlier. For the second time this week, an important discussion of their relationship had been interrupted by the call of duty. It was a reality she’d have to live with -- _if_ she decided to take Spock back.

***

They stepped out of the shuttle into a waist-high field of golden grass that whispered in the wind. The blades were silky beneath Nyota’s fingers.

“The beacon originated near here, but I’m not picking up any signs of life,” she announced, waving her tricorder in a slow circle.

“Perhaps the original inhabitants of the planet have departed,” Spock suggested.

“Or something took them,” the doctor added.

“So glad you always have a cheerful suggestion, Bones.” The captain pointed toward a stand of red-leafed trees at the edge of the field. “Is it possible somebody’s in there?”

“The tricorder is sufficiently powerful to penetrate the forest,” Spock said.

Nyota’s tricorder pinged, alerting her to an unusual energy reading. Spock’s tricorder pinged too, and they exchanged a glance.

“Let’s check in. Everybody describe what you see,” she said.

One by one, they described the same field of golden grass trimmed by a ruby-red forest, and Nyota felt the tension in her shoulders relax. Maybe she was being paranoid about the message. Sure, “bring us your best and we’ll give your heart’s desire” sounded a little too good to be true -- and possibly even a little creepy -- in English, but creepy in one language could be friendly in another. With more linguistic samples, she could refine the translation.

“Yup, field and a lot of trees,” McCoy was saying, but his voice sounded further away than it should be.

“Hey! Bones! Where are you going?” Jim called, and Nyota’s head snapped up from her tricorder display. Now the doctor was running across the field toward the forest.

“Joanna! What are you doing out here?” he yelled. “Get down, that’s dangerous!”

“Doctor, wait! There are no other life signs!” Nyota shouted back. She jogged toward him, tricorder banging at her side, but when she looked up, he was gone.

She spun in a slow circle, but she already knew what she would see: everyone else had vanished too. Somehow she wasn’t surprised when she opened her communicator and heard only static.

She sat down on a rock near the edge of the field, breathing slowly to calm her racing heart. She was alone on a strange planet, separated from the rest of her team. Protocol dictated that she remain in one place to make it easier for them to find her, but this was no ordinary case of getting lost. Dr. McCoy was chasing a daughter who didn’t exist; she couldn’t sit here while he might be in danger. But she shouldn’t go off without a plan either.

She shifted her rucksack off her back and opened it, taking stock even though she’d packed it less than an hour ago. She had a data padd and a first aid kit, several protein bars, a backup battery pack for her phaser, and a solar charging panel for her communicator. In the pocket she reserved for backup equipment, she had an old-fashioned compass, a flare gun, and a mirror for signaling an aerial search party if need be. Finally, clipped to the outside of the bag, she had a hydration flask, a length of rope, and a climbing axe. Satisfied that she was prepared for a responsible rescue mission, she stood up, cinched the pack, and left an earring on the rock as a sign to the rest of the crew that she’d passed by.

***

“Communications officer’s log, supplemental. I became separated from the away team at approximately 1400 hours. There is no sign of Captain Kirk or Commander Spock, but Dr. McCoy was running approximately thirty degrees north when he vanished. Since I am aware of his last known track, and he seemed to be hallucinating at the time of his disappearance, I have elected to pursue him.” Nyota paused and sighed. “As of now, I have found no trace of him, or any other member of the landing party.”

Nyota had been walking in the forest for more than two hours. The scenery, when she stopped to appreciate it, was extraordinary: soaring trees with iron-gray bark and vermillion leaves, tiny orange flowers that curled into a tight spiral at her touch, and fluttering, flickering creatures that seemed like a cross between butterflies and fireflies. She would have loved to stroll here for hours, comparing notes with the doctor and the captain -- and Spock. 

_Just give me one sign of any of them_ , she pleaded silently with the universe, even though she wasn’t sure that she believed in god.

At that moment, Nyota heard screaming, high-pitched like a child. She broke into a run.

“Hang on, Jo, I’m coming for you!” That was Dr. McCoy’s voice. 

Her heart racing, Nyota pushed herself faster. She stopped short when she reached a crystalline lake. The doctor was on the far shore, trapped in something that looked like quicksand. In the middle of the lake, a small blonde girl bobbed up and down, screaming for help.

 _An illusion_ , a voice in Nyota’s head warned her. But the girl looked real and sounded real, and Nyota couldn’t take the chance. She shrugged off her backpack and unlaced her boots as quickly as she could, then plunged into the icy water.

The girl -- Jo, the doctor had called her -- certainly felt real as Nyota looped an arm around her and swam toward the shore. She was barely conscious when Nyota pulled her out of the water and pressed on her chest. By now, McCoy had escaped from the quicksand and was racing across the shore toward them. As soon as he arrived, Jo’s eyes fluttered open.

While he conducted a careful exam, Nyota scanned with her tricorder too. The lifesigns _looked_ human, but how had she gotten here? And why hadn’t she appeared on the away team’s first scan?

“Doctor, who is this girl?” 

McCoy turned toward her beaming. “This my daughter, Joanna. She gave us a bit of a scare, but she’s gonna be alright. Thanks to you.”

The girl had wrapped her arms around McCoy’s waist, and she returned his smile. “Daddy! I’m so happy to see you!”

Nyota blinked. Of all the crew, McCoy had been the least forthcoming about his life. She had no idea that he had a child.

“Where do you live?” Nyota asked, bending down to Joanna’s eye level.

The little girl started to cough, and McCoy supplied, “All the way back in Georgia.”

“Doctor. _Leonard_. This doesn’t make sense. You’re being manipulated somehow. We both are.” Nyota tried to keep her voice calm and level, but it wasn’t enough to stop McCoy’s icy glare.

“Don’t you patronize me. Obviously we’ve got a mystery to solve. But you saw the readings yourself. This is my girl, and she’s here.”

“This is _a_ girl,” Nyota countered. “But she’s not yours. She can’t be.”

The doctor outranked her. Technically he was in command, but if she couldn’t persuade him to think clearly, she would have to relieve him.

“Doctor,” she said cautiously, “how long does it take someone to drown?”

“Twenty to sixty seconds,” he replied automatically.

“And can they scream for help?” she asked.

The doctor shook his head. “That’s a common misconception. By the time someone’s actively drowning, the airway is impaired and panic sets in. They're incapable of calling for help.”

Nyota reached slowly into her backpack, pressing her finger against the trigger of her phaser. “How long would you say Jo was in the water, calling for help?” she asked.

McCoy froze. Nyota pulled the phaser out of her bag, and together they turned to face the girl, but she was gone. There was only one of the glowing butterflies, drifting away in the breeze.

“Goddammit.” The doctor nearly slammed his fist into a tree trunk, and pulled back at the last minute. “No need to make an ass of myself two ways,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Nyota laid a tentative hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “She fooled me too.”

McCoy opened his mouth to reply, but something rustled in the woods, and Nyota held out a hand for him to stop.

“I recommend we scan for lifesigns, sir,” she whispered.

“ _Sir?_ ” McCoy frowned, looked down at the stripes on his sleeves and frowned again. “Are you telling me I’m in charge of this shitshow?”

Nyota nodded. “According to your rank, yes, sir.” 

“Excellent,” McCoy said. “I command _you_ to be in charge of this shitshow until we find our damn fool captain. And never call me sir again. That clear?”

“Very clear, Doctor.” Nyota flicked her tricorder on. “Scan for lifesigns, please.”

McCoy flicked his tricorder open. “I’m detecting one human male, approximately two meters away, height and weight matching the captain.”

“We need to consider the possibility that it’s another trick. Did the replica of your daughter have any obvious inconsistencies?”

“Wasn’t much chance to talk, to tell the truth. It was all, ‘Daddy, I’m so glad to see you’ and then running off to get in trouble.”

“When I asked where she lived, she started coughing rather than answer the question,” Nyota pointed out. 

“Whoever’s here, maybe they can perform superficial psionic scans, but accessing deeper memories would probably require a much more complex procedure,” McCoy said. “Difficult to perform on an unsuspecting victim.”

Nyota nodded. “So you’re saying the inhabitants might be able to create a simple replica of Captain Kirk from our superficial memories, but not one that holds up to scrutiny. Can you think of a question that only the real Jim could answer? Something that he’s only told you?”

McCoy scowled. “A few too many things, unfortunately.”

“Good.” Nyota unclipped her phaser from its holster. “I want you to approach, but stay out of reach until he’s answered your question. If he can’t, I’ll shoot to stun.” She rummaged in her bag and came up with a pair of handcuffs, which she hadn’t seen during her last inventory, but she was glad to have. “If I do have to shoot, restrain him quickly.”

Nyota waited in the bushes while the doctor approached the captain. Jim was crouched on the forest floor, digging in the dirt. Even from this distance, she could tell his fingernails looked broken and bloody.

“Bones!” The captain’s familiar grin lit up his face, but it vanished quickly. “Listen, the food’s all gone, but don’t worry. We can dig up bugs to eat. I know what you’re thinking, but they’re a great source of protein.” Jim was talking fast, and his gaze bounced erratically between the doctor and the dirt where he was digging. “We just have to get to work fast, because the others are going to start looking too, and there’s not going to be enough to go around. It shouldn’t be a competition, but it is, so we have to win it.” He looked around. “Are Spock and Uhura with you? If they dig too, we just might win.”

Nyota took the shot.

McCoy caught Jim -- or whatever was pretending to be Jim -- before he hit the ground. “What did you do that for? He didn’t even get a chance to answer the question!” 

“Cuff him! That’s an order!” Nyota snapped. Then she forced herself to speak more calmly. “We’ve seen this before, Doctor. Someone we think we know, asking for urgent help. I couldn’t take the chance.”

Even so, doubt tugged at Nyota’s brain. If the inhabitants of this planet wanted to distract them with family and friends in need of help, digging for insects to eat was certainly a strange scenario. Why not stage an injury, or an animal attack?

The doctor still hadn’t cuffed the captain, or whatever was pretending to be him. He was glowering at her defiantly, gesticulating with the handcuffs. “Dammit, woman, that _is_ Jim!”

Nyota tried to keep her voice steady. “You’ve already been compromised once, Doctor. How can you possibly know?”

McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t break doctor-patient confidentiality, not even for you.”

Nyota snatched the cuffs out of the doctor’s hands. “Fine, then I’ll restrain him myself. When he comes to, you find a way to prove it’s really the captain.”

***

Jim awakened with a groan half an hour later. “Why does my mouth taste like socks?” he asked. Then he held up his hands indignantly. “You guys handcuffed me!”

Nyota drew her phaser and clicked off the safety.

Jim looked indignant. “What the hell? Is this a mutiny?”

“There’s something here pretending to be people we know, and you weren’t quite in your right mind when we found you.” McCoy grimaced. “Just answer a question for me and the nice lady with the phaser won’t shoot you.”

Jim shrugged, or tried to. It was awkward with his hands cuffed. “Alright, have it.”

“Greatest romantic regret,” McCoy said quickly.

Jim groaned. “Bones! That’s a low blow.”

McCoy shook his head. “Has to be something only you and I know.”

Jim sighed. “I shouldn’t have used Gaila’s codes to hack the Kobayashi Maru. We had something real, and if I hadn’t been so scared of it, we could’ve made it last.”

McCoy gave Nyota a faint nod and she dropped the phaser, then bent to unlock the handcuffs. Jim’s gaze bounced warily between them. “You said I wasn’t in my right mind when you found me.” He licked his lips. “What was I doing?”

“You were looking for bugs to eat.” McCoy looked at Nyota, and she wondered if she should back away to give them some privacy, but Jim shook his head.

“She can hear it,” he said. “We should know these things about each other, if we’re going to be a crew.” He looked at Nyota as if he were steeling himself for something. “I was on Tarsus during the famine.”

“By any chance, did you see some starving kids begging you for help?” the doctor asked, sparing Nyota from the need to respond.

“Yeah.” Jim nodded slowly. “I mean, first I smelled food. It was like this irresistible feast, so I went looking for it.”

“Typical,” McCoy huffed.

“But when I got there, the food started to smell rotten, but people were fighting over it anyway. Then there were these hungry kids, asking for help and I knew I was the only one who could get them food…” Jim took a shaky breath. “And that’s how I ended up digging for bugs like a crazy person.”

The doctor squeezed the captain’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, they got me too.”

“Joanna?” Jim asked.

McCoy nodded. “I was thinking how much I’d like to show her this place, and then I got to thinking about how far away I am, how if she needed help, I wouldn’t be able to get to her in time.”

“Those superficial psionic scans you were talking about -- could they take those thoughts and follow them down to some kind of deeper fear?” Nyota asked.

“More like we supplied the fear,” Leonard said, looking resigned. “You start thinking about what you love, and then you start thinking about how you could lose it.” 

“I was thinking I’d forgotten to pack ration bars,” Jim said. He looked at Nyota. “How did they get to you?”

“They didn’t,” the doctor said. “She’s the only one of us who kept her head.”

“Cool,” Jim said, pivoting back to Nyota. “If you’re not compromised, you’re in charge. We await your orders, Lieutenant.” 

Nyota’s heart skipped a beat. She used to think command was a game for Jim, but he’d given away all his power without a second thought. It really was about what was best for the crew.

“I won’t let you down, Captain,” she said, putting a little extra emphasis on the rank. “Now let’s go find Spock.”

***

Nyota led the team to the top of a hill, where she could easily perform a terrain scan.

“If Spock encountered illusions like you did, it’s likely he’s somewhere isolated, like a cave.” She pointed toward a group of pockmarked hills not too distant from their position. “Someplace like those. Now, if I just had a pair of binoculars to zoom in…”

She bent to rifle through her pack. Maybe if she attached her padd to her tricorder, she could magnify the terrain? But when she opened the front pocket, she found a surprise: an actual pair of binoculars. She didn’t remember packing them, and she’d certainly missed them during her inventory this morning, but she’d been rattled then. 

She pressed them to her eyes and fiddled with the settings, but the view remained stubbornly blurry. “Hey, it looks like there might be smoke up there, but I can’t get these adjusted properly. Can you give them a try?”

Jim squinted into the lenses and frowned, turning the knobs back and forth. “These are some shitty binoculars. But yeah, I think I see smoke too.”

“What does the tricorder say?” she asked, turning to McCoy.

“Faint life signs. Could be Spock in a cave. Could be some kind of saber-toothed tiger.”

“Let’s not voice any irrational fears. I don’t think the inhabitants of this planet need any more ideas,” Nyota said sharply. “In the absence of better leads, I say we go there in case it’s a signal fire. But let’s keep our eyes open for other signs of Spock.”

The captain and the doctor nodded, and Nyota let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She was comfortable with authority in her own field, and she could’ve easily led an exploratory crew of ensigns, but she hadn’t expected to be in charge of an away mission including officers who outranked her. It was a relief to see Jim and Dr. McCoy seemed to accept her plan.

Something rumbled in the distance, and the water trembled in Nyota’s flask. When the rumbling sounded again, Jim looked back at Nyota.

“Hey, I’m one hundred percent on board with not giving the creepy mind-reading aliens any new ideas, but I think you should tell us your biggest fear. You know, so Bones and I can help you if they send an illusion.”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Nyota shrugged. “It’s being unprepared. But luckily, I packed a very thorough supply bag.” She gave the backpack an affectionate pat. “And I don’t think any mind-reading aliens are going to sucker me into a nightmare about being naked at a surprise exam.”

“A very large lifesign is approaching rapidly,” McCoy said. 

The rumbling grew closer now, accompanied by the sound of ripping twigs and the terrified squeaks of small animals.

“Phasers ready,” Nyota said. She could handle this. “You know, in the Academy, Gaila and I always had a saying. We could handle anything as long as it wasn’t --”

“Let me guess,” McCoy broke in. “A dinosaur.”

Nyota’s eyes went wide as the thunderous steps grew closer.

“Run!” Jim yelled.

Nyota stood her ground in the middle of the path. The Joanna replica had disappeared as soon as McCoy realized she wasn’t real. This tyrannosaurus would do the same. If she didn’t treat it like it was real, it couldn’t hurt her. Her breath caught in her throat as it rounded the curve in the path. The force of its steps reverberated through her whole body. Its teeth were bigger than her head. Soon she could feel its breath on her face. But any minute now, it was going to disappear.

It swiped at her with one of its claws, and Jim yanked her out of the way just in time. Together, they tumbled into a hole between the rocks where McCoy was waiting. 

“Good god woman, what were you playing at out there?” he demanded, swiping the tricorder over her body.

“Facing it down,” Nyota said, trying to keep her voice level. It didn’t work. “I thought it would go away if I just told myself it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah, for future reference, let’s treat _all_ dinosaurs as if they can really hurt us,” Jim hissed.

“For the _future_? You think we’re going to have more dinosaur emergencies?” McCoy muttered something about resigning his commission, then swiveled back to Nyota. “And what the hell is the matter with you, dreaming up a dinosaur? Here we are, worried about saving people from famines and losing our children, and you have a five-year-old’s nightmare?”

“It’s what the dinosaur _symbolizes_ ,” Nyota said primly, sitting up straight. “It’s about having to face something I couldn’t possibly prepare for.”

All three of them froze when a gigantic eyeball appeared between a gap in the rocks. “Captain,” Nyota said, “I appreciate your faith in putting me in command of this mission, but I’d really like you to figure out how to fight the tyrannosaurus rex.”

“Best thing about command is delegation,” Jim said, nodding. “Now let’s take a vote. Shooting it in the eye will make things better or worse?”

“Xenobiologically speaking, anything with a snout that big relies on sight more than smell, so you’ll probably piss it off without stopping it from eating us,” McCoy said, shrinking toward the back wall of the cave.

Suddenly, with an enormous bellow, the dinosaur ran away. Cautiously, Nyota poked her head outside, peering through her fuzzy binoculars.

“I think I see a humanoid life form underneath that ridge.” She turned toward the doctor. “Are you picking up any lifesigns?”

“Something’s out there. Looks to be half-human, half-Vulcan.” He swallowed. “It’s Spock. What the hell is he playing at?”

“He’s distracting it for us. No, more than that.” Nyota squinted at the ridge, giving up on her binoculars. “He’s giving us a chance to bury it. Look at all those loose rocks up there! If we combine our phaser power, we can cause an avalanche!”

Jim grinned at her. “Your plan. You give us the mark.”

Nyota counted slowly to three, and she grinned as bright red phaser beams unleashed a torrent of rocks on the dinosaur, which vanished with a final, tremulous bellow. Suddenly the pile of rocks collapsed, and one of the shining butterflies drifted up, sunlight glinting from its wings.

Nyota broke into a run. “Spock!” she yelled. “Spock, are you all right?”

***

When Spock appeared atop the rubble, dusty but unharmed, Nyota had to suppress the urge to fling herself into his arms. If he’d died before she had the chance to --

She cut off the thought abruptly when she saw what was floating on a hoversled behind him: her, encased in a shimmering force field.

“What the hell is that?” she snapped, just as the mirror Nyota cackled and said, “You’ll never have a place in this universe, you filthy halfbreed!”

“It is a shapeshifter,” Spock said implacably, ignoring the stream of imprecations coming from behind the forcefield. “The planet is inhabited by them, and as I believe you have discovered, they are hostile.”

Abruptly, the Nyota in the cage collapsed into a puddle of goo, and reformed into Captain Kirk. “Why would I want a Vulcan as my first officer? I ought to just leave you here,” it said.

“Great, is it going to turn into me next?” the doctor asked, stepping around the forcefield and scanning the creature with the tricorder.

“That would be illogical, Doctor,” Spock said. “Having performed a rudimentary telepathic scan, it is aware I am not concerned with your opinion.”

“Nice work,” Jim said, giving the cage a wide berth. “How did you figure it out?”

Spock gave an infinitesimal shrug. “It was not overly difficult. Even when angry, Lieutenant Uhura is not unkind. Nor would you maroon me here, Captain. It would be an exceedingly illogical course of action.”

“So they lured us to a planet to frighten us?” McCoy asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Nyota shook her head slowly. She scanned for the shuttle, already knowing what she would find. “To distract us and steal from us, Doctor,” she said. “The shuttle’s gone.”

“So we’re stranded down here?” 

“Easy, Bones,” Jim said. “We’ve missed two checkins. Protocol is to begin an aerial search, if they haven’t already.”

“There is another problem.” Spock looked grave. “The shapeshifters may impersonate inanimate objects in order to sneak aboard the _Enterprise_. It is imperative that we search our possessions for equipment that did not arrive with us.”

“Those malfunctioning binoculars!” Nyota exclaimed.

“And the handcuffs,” Jim added. He shot Nyota a sidelong glance. “You wouldn’t _really_ bring handcuffs on a first contact mission, right?”

***

Half an hour later, they’d each purged their rucksacks of mystery equipment. Now they sat inside a forcefield on a large, flat outcropping where the appearance of any new object would be obvious.

“Our comms are still jammed, so we need a way to signal the search shuttles that they should beam us up instead of landing,” Jim said. He glanced around the outcropping. “Do you think this is big enough to spell out a message in rocks?”

Nyota rolled her eyes. “I have a better way.” She reached into her rucksack for the mirror she remembered bringing. “When the shuttle’s overhead, I’ll signal them with morse code.”

“Yeah, that’s a much better plan.” Jim smiled. “Any thoughts on what we do while we wait?”

That was easy. “The most important thing is not to give the shapeshifters any more ammunition for psychic attacks, so I propose we say nice things to each other while we wait.” Nyota turned toward the doctor. “Leonard, you didn’t abandon your daughter by joining Starfleet. Things might be complicated right now, but if you keep the lines of communication open, I trust that one day, she’ll understand. And you’ll get to show her a planet that’s beautiful _and_ doesn’t want to terrorize her while it steals her only mode of transportation.”

“I might’ve needed to hear that,” McCoy muttered. He squeezed her shoulder gently before the turned to the captain. “Jim, you survived that famine. And not only did you survive it, you became the youngest -- and the best -- captain in the fleet. I don’t know what that’s like, but I _do_ know you have to focus on the people you _did_ save, not the ones you couldn’t. I’m proud to call you my best friend.”

Jim blinked rapidly, muttering something about dust in his eye before he turned to face Nyota. “Lieutenant Uhura, the fact that you’re only afraid of dinosaurs just proves that you’re the most capable officer in the fleet, and you can handle anything the galaxy throws at you. We’re lucky to have you aboard. And remember, for that one crisis in a million that you can’t solve, we’ve all got your back. Relying on someone else doesn’t make you any less capable.”

While Jim spoke, Nyota had surreptitiously slid two of her fingers across the gravel toward Spock. Now two of his fingers rested atop hers. “Spock, thank you for the faith to know that we would never say -- or think -- that you don’t belong with us, because you do. I’m sorry you grew up with people who told you otherwise. To preach infinite diversity in infinite combination, and then to reject the very evidence of that credo, is the height of illogic, and it has nothing to do with you.”

The doctor reached into his backpack and emerged with a flask of bourbon. “We make a good team,” he said. “And may our next away mission be better than the last.”

***

One of Nyota’s favorite things about Spock was that she could whisper to him in a voice no human would be able to hear, but his Vulcan ears could discern every word perfectly. When the rescue shuttle beamed them aboard, Nyota murmured in her softest voice, “Meet me in the cargo hold in five minutes.”

Nyota loved the cargo hold; the huge rear window offered an unparalleled panorama, and she really did want to watch that planet recede until it was nothing but a tiny dot on the horizon. The second reason she loved the cargo hold was that it was very small, with just enough space for two humanoid lifeforms to stand side-by-side.

Spock’s treads on the ladder were soft. Nyota could have turned to greet him, but instead she stayed facing the window so she could enjoy the familiar sensation of his warmth at her back.

“Customarily, when the native name of a planet cannot be determined, the person who identified the coordinates may choose the appellation. That would be you.”

Nyota smiled to herself, because only Spock could manage that mouthful of a sentence, and because he stood close enough that she could feel his breath on her ear. 

Now she turned to face him. Pivoting in the small space forced their legs to brush together, a sensation she did not mind at all. “Do you think Starfleet would reject the name ‘Stay the Hell Away 4?’”

Spock raised an eyebrow. If he was enjoying their proximity, he gave no hint of it, though this was a way he often teased her. “While that name confers the advantage of a clear warning, I suspect Starfleet will not approve of the profanity, and I am uncertain why you would include a numerical value.”

Nyota smiled. “Sounds more official that way.” She peered out the window, watching as the beautiful amethyst oceans receded. “What about Siren’s Song?”

“The reference to Homer’s Odyssey is fitting, and explorers often draw from mythology in naming extraterrestrial objects.” 

Silence descended between them, and for the first time in a very long time, it wasn’t awkward. There was only the sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the murmur of conversation from the passenger compartment above. For a moment, Nyota felt as if the two of them were alone in their own private corner of the galaxy. Spock began to reach for her, then stopped and clenched his hand into a fist instead. It was only a tiny gesture, but Nyota saw it. His adam’s apple rose and fell before he finally spoke again. 

“Your behavior indicates you have come to a conclusion about our relationship, but I do not wish to act presumptuously.” His eyes fell. “Perhaps I have merely mistaken my desire for your own.”

Nyota didn’t bother with two fingers; she took Spock’s hand in her own. “You’re right. I have been thinking,” she said. She swiped her thumb across his knuckles, and delighted in the tiny gasp only she could hear. “And I think that you are -- _we_ are -- more than the worst moment of our relationship.”

Spock dropped his head to Nyota’s shoulder. This time his sigh was large enough anyone could have heard it. “I am relieved to hear that.”

Nyota slid her fingers through his hair, and he raised his head to look her in the eye. “Anyway,” she said, smiling now, “I stand with the man who helped me fight an actual dinosaur.”

Spock let go of her hand so that he could trace her jaw. His fingers trailed slowly over her cheekbones until they settled lightly on her forehead, and she felt the familiar press of his mind against hers. As she tilted her head to kiss him at last, Nyota knew that she had never been further from Earth, but she felt like she was coming home.


End file.
